The One Where the Glee Kids Meet the Thespians
by RileyAnnaOlson
Summary: When the judges at regionals are less than impressed with New Directions' acting, Mr. Schue decides to consult the experts, and the kids get some hands-on training with the McKinley High Thespians Club. Theatrical shenanigans and references abound, and Puck does Shakespeare.
1. Chapter 1

"Alright, guys, we got our comments from regionals this morning," Mr. Schue said as he passed out a choral arrangement of Separate Ways. "It looks like we have some good stuff to work on."

"But we won regionals," said Santana, using the sheet music to hide her phone.

"Which is exactly why we need to be at the top of our game! We can't get complacent and let Vocal Adrenaline pick up the slack. Now, everyone loved our song selection—thank you, Mercedes, for your help on that," Mercedes took a little bow to Kurt's applause, "but what we really got knocked on was our acting."

"Acting?" said Finn absently. He was still confused how Schue found this arrangement after Artie hacked into and and moved everything by Journey to "Celtic Hymns."

"Acting!" Schue repeated. The club's faces were blank (except Rachel and Kurt, who were upset the judges hadn't realized they were God's gift to the stage.) "The theatuh! The judges felt like you weren't conveying the truth of the songs through your expressions. Sooo, for this week's lesson, we're spending the week with the McKinley High Thespians Club!"

Silence.

"The who?" said Sam.

"We have one of those?" asked Kurt.

"Hey, Santana, that's perfect for you!" Puck began, but she pinched his arm and he wisely shut up before he lost too much blood.


	2. Chapter 2

The glee club tiptoed in a huddle through the dark back halls, past strange-smelling janitors' closets and cobweb-encrusted emergency exits.

"Where are we going?" whispered Tina, who was clinging to Mike.

He looked around. "I have no idea. I didn't know the school had a basement." It did, and it was exactly as sketchy as a high school basement should be. Finn and Puck vaguely remembered it from a football party freshman year, though they'd forgotten how many rat traps it had. Rachel kept squeaking every time something made a sound, and since the clanking old pipes were running along their path, Santana was ready to feed her to the spiders. Kurt stalked ahead bravely with his chin up, but he was cutting off the circulation in Blaine's hand (Blaine couldn't tell if that meant he was scared. It might have been Kurt's attempt at comforting him.)

"I think 002 is around the corner!" Tina jumped at Mr. Schue's loud, cheery voice. He hadn't even knocked on the door when it swung open and an enormous figure loomed.

"William Schuester?"

Mike staggered as Tina climbed him. He bumped Rachel. Rachel shrieked. Blaine yelped as Kurt's fingernails dug into his hand. Finn, Sam, and Schue cursed. Puck was long gone.

Mr. Schuester reattached his lopsided I-can-charm-anything grin to his face. "Nick, hi." A skeletal man in a black turtleneck and scarf frowned down on them. Finn felt very small. It was a new feeling. "Um, kids, this is Nick Stanislavski, he's the drama club coach—"

Kurt's head whipped around. "Stanislavski? As in _Stanislavski_? Founder of the Moscow Art Theatre and father of modern acting?"

"Konstantin Stanislavski has been dead for seventy-three years," droned the teacher. Kurt deflated. "He is a distant cousin."

"Hey, that means we've got good genetics on our team!" Mr. Schue was trying pretty hard to get everyone pumped, but the club was convinced they were in an episode of the Twilight Zone, or maybe True American Crime, depending on whether Mr. Stanislavski had a portal to the void or a butcher knife.

"Why have none of us heard of this guy?" Sam whispered.

Mercedes hissed back, "Are you kidding? I don't think he's left this basement since 1965."

"Anyway, Nick, I was wondering if you and your kids could help me and mine with our acting."

Mr. Stanislavski folded his arms and scrutinized the glee club. "You're just in time. We're choosing scenes for the winter showcase. Come in."

Puck, who had returned from his flight and was now compensating, swaggered in first. "What up, lesbians!"

* * *

Six drama kids sat on a half-circle of plastic chairs, looking at New Directions like a bunch of truckers had walked in demanding burgers.

"I'm Rachel Berry," said she, bounding forward with her hand outstretched.

"We know," said the tiny girl with a tight bun sitting on crossed legs.

Rachel's smile only tightened. "Oh! I suppose I have had a fair amount of time in the McKinley High spotlight; I shouldn't be surprised my reputation precedes me."

"Are you joining us?" asked the stringy-haired granola girl. Mr. Schue said yes. She immediately started tearing up. "This is so beautiful! We've never had bland hunky protagonist boys, and look at them all!" The boys looked at each other. "Think of the possibilities! Biff Loman! Romeo!"

"Stanley Kowalski," added the first girl, pleased.

Granola girl rushed to Kurt and took his hands. "And you! Lovely! Puck, Ariel!" Kurt smiled, bewildered, as tears streamed down the girl's face.

"Those are Shakespeare characters," Rachel whispered. The non-Shakespearean Puck nodded. Kurt playing a Disney princess wouldn't have surprised him, but anyone thinking Hummel could play the Puckster wasn't right in the head.

A lanky tan boy stood up and steered the now openly-weeping girl back to her seat. "Luellen, leave the poor kids alone. We haven't even introduced ourselves." Once he was free of her, he said, "Hi. I'm Ronnie."

The tiny girl leaned forward. "He's ambiguously ethnic, so he plays our nonwhite roles." Mercedes didn't seem impressed.

Luellen left off in the middle of a complicated braid to wave. "My name is Luellen, and I'm so happy you're with us." Brittany waved back.

"Cause we're hunky?" asked Finn with half a smile.

"Because of your chi! Acting is nothing less than an exchange of energy, and so many new and vibrant energies can only invigorate our art. What a miracle on this bright afternoon!" It had been raining all day, but the glee kids assumed she'd been down here the whole time and didn't correct her.

The tiny girl said, "I'm Hermione. _Named_ ," she forestalled three Wingardium Leviosa jokes, "for the wronged queen of Shakespeare's _A Winter's Tale_ , and my dream role. This is Jo." A stout girl in Hot Topic blacks nodded. "She's our techie, but there's no stagecraft club so she's got to hang out with us. But we love her and respect the importance of her profession to ours so it's all great." Jo's smile was only a little fake.

"Good afternoon, I'm Colton, I'm pleased you could join us." A heavyset boy with intellectual glasses and curly hair smiled smugly. "Always happy to see new blood taking on the challenge and craft of acting." Kurt and Rachel exchanged glances, less than excited to discover they wouldn't be the condescending know-it-alls in this new setup.

Puck wasn't worried about Colton or the other lesbians—or thespians, which Santana had informed him was not the same thing. He was trying to figure out if the girl in the corner was as hot as he thought she was, or if the shadows were tricking him (which had happened in the past, so you couldn't be too careful.) Then she stood and everything went slow motion. "Hey, I'm Tamar," she said, flipping her long, dark hair out of her eyes like she was in a shampoo commercial. "I'm here for fun and to look better on college apps!"

"And to take all the leads," said Hermione under her breath.

"And I am Nikolai Stanislavski, director, producer, and mentor of these my protégés. Now you know who we are, I would like to know who you are, after which I will assign you showcase material."

The glee kids looked around, then Brittany stepped forward, twisting her shirt in her hands. "Hi, I'm Brittany. I've been addicted to online shopping since Lord Tubbington introduced it to me in 2003…"


	3. Chapter 3

Puck cornered Tamar almost before Nick finished handing out scenes. "So you're Tamar."

"Mmhmm."

"No, but I mean you're _that_ Tamar." She covered her laugh so well he thought she was smiling enticingly. "Girls lacrosse captain."

"Mmhmm."

"Varsity softball pitcher."

"Mmhmm."

"Founder and president of the Kosher Kids Klub."

"That's me." She grinned.

"Oh my God, you're like my hero. Marry me!" She did laugh this time. "No, I'm serious! I'm a hot Jewish athlete, you're a hot Jewish athlete, we both do artsy crap so we're super well-rounded. Our babies would be superhuman! And everything leading up to the babies would be pretty great too," he finished with a charming grin.

She smacked him with her script. "Go rehearse."

* * *

Santana and Brittany sat in the corner reading through their scene. Santana was muttering about how useless this assignment was. "Because spending a week reading lines from 1930-whatever about Karen the schoolmarm will make me more emotional when I'm singing Lady Gaga. Brilliant as always, Mr. Schue."

"I have loved you like they said," said Brittany aloud.

Santana's head snapped up. "Like who said?"

"I don't know."

"They'd better not be saying." Santana flipped ahead in the script. "It's weird enough they gave us the one lesbian scene." When she reached the last page, she stopped and frowned. "Hey!" Nick didn't acknowledge her. "Hey! What's the big idea?"

* * *

"I don't get it," said Quinn after she and Rachel's second readthrough. "This scene is boring. Nothing happens."

"I agree." Rachel turned to Colton, who was hovering nearby, waiting to offer his expertise. "How am I supposed to become an emotionally honest actor if all I get to do is exchange pleasantries with Quinn?"

Colton puffed out his chest. "Therein lies the genius of Oscar Wilde, ma chère. This scene is venom with a smile; a vicious battle of wits between ladies who hate one another but are bound by social constructs to be polite."

"I see," said Rachel, trying not to seem too excited.

Quinn smiled delicately. "I think we can do that."

* * *

Puck was half-listening to Luellen's explanation of how Stanley and Blanche's relationship changed during this scene and half watching Artie's monologue. Forget that, he thought. Who wants to talk to yourself onstage? When Tamar sat opposite Artie to watch him practice, however, the concept seemed much less ludicrous.

Artie was getting into fine form. "He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains…" Here Luellen said something about him taking his shirt off in the scene. "And what's his reason? I am a Jew."

"Hold on." He interrupted Luellen at the bit about the dying romance of the Old South. "I gotta stop some cultural appropriation."

"Hey! What are you doing?" Artie complained as Puck snatched his script.

"Saving us all the embarrassment of you pretending to be a Jew. You're not nearly cool enough." Puck ignored Artie's "It's called acting!" and pushed him toward Luellen. "Here. You can do this scene that doesn't have anything to do with streetcars."

Luellen and Artie looked at each other. "I...guess I'm your new scene partner?" he said.

"Amazing!" She wasn't fazed at all. "I was just telling Puckerman about the critical importance of Stanley's animal magnetism in this scene. He must ravish Blanche with his aura first, making the scene's violent climax a horrifying inevitability!"

"I'm sorry, did you say ravish?"

Blaine, who heard the whole thing as he was passing by, chimed in happily. "Don't worry about it, Artie. It's like you told me and Rachel during _West Side Story_. You just need to have experienced sex to convey such a primal, human experience. Good thing your first time with Brittany was so great, huh?"

Artie smiled uncomfortably as he realized his directing advice might be slightly less genius than it had seemed when he gave it.

Meanwhile, Puck turned the chair next to Tamar backward and sat on it. "Funny running into you again."

"What a crazy random happenstance," she replied, opening a bag of cheese popcorn.

"So where's your script?"

"Oh, I'm doing the same Lady Macbeth I've been doing for two years," said Tamar dismissively. "Everyone loves it. I don't even practice it anymore. So you're going to be Shylock, huh?"

"Is that what this guy's name is?"

"Yep."

Puck grinned. "Then yeah. I'm gonna be the best damn Shylock you and Willy Shakespeare have ever seen."

* * *

Sam and Finn escaped the rehearsal room at the same time and simultaneously discovered how nasty the basement men's room was. "How are you doing?" asked Sam, deciding he didn't have to go that badly.

"Actually, I'm really into this," said Finn. He walked into a stall, turned right around, and walked back out. "It's like singing a solo, but I don't have to worry if I'm singing well."

"Sweet."

"How are things going with Hermione?"

Sam laughed. "She's intense, man!"

"Theatre women are scary," said Finn knowingly.

"You said it. We're doing this scene where our kid is dead and she's getting rid of his stuff, and I'm pissed—which, I get that—but then she goes off on me and she's really crying and everything. It's wild! And she already knows this script backwards and keeps talking about objectives and superobjectives, which I think are objectives, just… bigger." Sam shook his hair out of his eyes. "I feel like our Broadway people should be working with her, cause my performing experience is, ah, not the same genre."

"But hey. It's pretty cool," said Finn.

"Yeah. I tell you what, though, if she says _craft_ one more time I'm throwing a box of mac and cheese at her."

* * *

Colton frowned. "You're doing rather well, Rachel—"

"Thank you!"

"but I don't understand why you're… pointing so often."

Rachel got a smug look. "Have you heard of Cooper Anderson? He's a famous actor, and in his masterclass on acting he says—"

"Oh, lord." Colton pinched the bridge of his nose. "We had to have this talk with Tamar when she joined too."

* * *

All things considered, Mercedes and Ronnie's scene was going well—or as well as could be expected. It was much more fun playing Beneatha than reading about her in senior English. Unfortunately, Ronnie's first line readings threatened to sound like an accent, and despite her death glare correcting him, it was a bad omen. She suffered it as long as possible with minimal eye-rolling, but finally Miss Jones could take no more.

"Uh-uh. _Hell_ to the no." Ronnie stumbled back as she broke away. "This isn't working."

"Should I stand up sooner?" he said.

"Oh, no. The blocking is fine. What's not fine is my costar is supposed to be Nigerian, and they stuck me with a boy from the exotic nation of Jersey Shore. I'm not getting lectured about cultural pride by somebody who got his color on spring break. Not today."

"I'm sorry, Mercedes," said Ronnie from the floor. "Nobody's ever had a problem with it before."

"You've never done a scene with Mercedes Jones before. Now get up. We're doing _Othello_ , and you can be Desdemona."

* * *

Mike tried to detach Tina from his leg as he dragged her across the floor. "Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; for I am sick when I do look on thee!"

"And I am sick when I look not on you!" she cried, scrambling up and jumping on his back.

"You do impeach your modesty too much to—impeach?" Tina grabbed the script from his back pocket and confirmed the word. They took a break, breathing heavily. "Is this what having relationship drama is like?" Mike asked, letting her down.

"Must be."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "It's exhausting."

Tina nodded. "I wonder how Finn and Rachel do it."

* * *

Kurt had snagged Nick, despite Blaine's apprehensions, and asked him for feedback. He stood with his hands folded and one eyebrow slightly quirked as they ran the scene. Kurt moved dancelike, his stance disguising the fact that this Robin Goodfellow had a good three inches on his king.

When the boys finished, Nick was silent long enough to make them fidget. Apparently he just had a very, very slow smile. "Bravo, gentlemen. Bravo." Kurt started breathing again. "I've never seen this scene played with such blistering sexual tension."

"I'm sorry, such what?"

"What an intriguing choice. This Oberon clearly lusts after Puck, and with the undertones suggesting that feeling is reciprocated, you've highlighted fascinating themes of attraction, dominance, and submission that often go unexplored in _Midsummer_. How exhilarating to be in the presence of such provocative, avant-garde creativity. Excellent work."

Kurt's mouth opened and shut several times. Blaine looked between him and Nick and said, "That is… exactly what we intended. I'm glad that came across."

* * *

"I can't remember all of them!" Puck complained.

Tamar passed him another handful of popcorn. "It's not that long a piece," she said. "The trick is keeping the lines in order."

"Exactly!"

"Don't worry about acting it, just list them off." Puck sprawled across the floor and reached for more popcorn. Tamar swatted his hand away. "Learn your lines."

"Eyes. Hands." She tossed him popcorn for every one he got right. "Uhhh, dimensions."

"Organs."

"Organs. Then dimensions."

He made it through the rest of the list with much prompting, just in time for Finn to say, "Hey Puck, you should show us your monologue!"

Luckily for Finn, Puck owed him into eternity for knocking up his first girlfriend and stealing his second one. Instead of calling him something rude for having such a stupid idea, Puck gritted his teeth, looked at Tamar, who seemed to think it was a great idea, and said, "Sure!" As soon as Finn walked away he hissed, "I don't know it at all!"

"Finn doesn't know that," said Tamar with a shrug, "and unless you let him know, he never will. My life motto is BS with confidence."

"Really?"

"Not kidding. Make crap up, skip to the part you know, and don't let 'em know you're faking."

Puck smoothed out his mohawk. "Alright. Let's do it."

The entirety of New Directions thought seeing Puck perform Shakespeare was too good to pass up, so they all assembled to watch, which did not help Mr. Puckerman's confidence. A quick round of imagine-the-audience-in-their-underwear (which turned into imagine-the-chicks-in-their-underwear because he wasn't Kurt) probably didn't help his concentration, but at least it distracted him effectively. He actually made it all the way to "Hath not a Jew eyes?" Then he froze. "Hath _not_ a Jew eyes?" he repeated more forcefully.

"Uh-oh," breathed Tamar.

"Hath not a Jew hands? … organs… passions…" Crap. "...Abs?"

Mike's jaw dropped. Kurt's eyebrows hit his hairline. Tamar snorted in the back row.

Making a hot girl laugh was a huge boost. "Hath not a Jew massive guns, a mohawk, all the babes?"

"Oh my God," Artie murmured to Sam. "He's gone rogue."

"Who cares?" said Sam. "This is the best Shakespeare I've ever seen!"

"If you poison us, do we not kick your ass? And if you wrong us, DO WE NOT REVENGE?"

And that was how Puck got his first standing ovation.


	4. Chapter 4

The glee club assembled in the choir room on Friday, still talking about their week in the creepy basement with the lesbians—sorry, the thespians. Mr. Schue bounded in a few minutes late. "So how did you like this week's lesson, huh?" He was answered with applause, cheers, hooting, and a groan from Santana. "I was just talking to Nick. I thought the winter showcase was this weekend, but apparently it's not until the end of February. Apparently the thespians club doesn't learn new pieces every week."

"What, they work on the same stuff for a month?" said Sam.

"I'm as surprised as you," said Mr. Schue. "In light of that, I'm not going to require you guys to keep working on your scenes. If you want to, I'm all for it. I saw some pretty cool acting going on. But the assignment was just for the week, so—"

Puck bolted out of his chair. "See you losers in February!"


End file.
